


"Beauty" of the Divines

by Martijndebakker



Category: Elder Scrolls, Elder Scrolls IV: Oblivion, Elder Scrolls Online
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-29
Updated: 2021-01-29
Packaged: 2021-03-15 09:54:14
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 529
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29062398
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Martijndebakker/pseuds/Martijndebakker
Summary: A slave of the Ayleids takes us through his daily routine.
Kudos: 2





	"Beauty" of the Divines

The warm rays of the Midyear sun wake me up early, very early. The ayleids haven't even started their morning flogging routine yet. This is one of the few hours a year where there's silence. No wails of pain and torment, no shouting and screaming. But as all beauty, the moment is fleeting. I hear the slave master shouting commands in the distance. If he catches me sleeping that means a beating, but today I am lucky. I grab the nedic skull that I use as a bowl and get to work.

My routine starts at the pillars of justice. Today's prisoners are orcs. A pity, their blood is so thick and sticky that it's hard to work with. I guess I didn't avoid a beating today after all. They're already bleeding when I arrive. Looks like the priest of Trinimac is up early as well. I disdain this priest. He always prays way too long. If I touch the prisoners before he is finished, it will be me who is bound to the pillars by intestines. But if I wait too long it'll be midday, and the ayleids will cut out the prisoner's hearts to offer to Trinimac. Collecting enough blood then will be hard. It's still early, and the acolytes are still sleepy, so I manage to fill my bowl without being stabbed for crossing their path.

As I make my way through the flesh garden, I notice the altmer are expanding the oldest statue in the garden. Xarxes, the god of statues and ancestry, has stood here the first. It's only appropriate that his statue is made of the hide and bones of chimer, not just because the metallic golden skin gives him a beautiful shine, but also because the chimer of all the elves are most devoted to their ancestry. An ayleid high artist lady is yelling at silver slaves to dress up the looming tentacles of bones and skulls that are watching over Xarxes with the metallic hides of their own tribesmen. It looks like the expedition to Argonia was a success. I watch them for a moment but cannot linger too long. The blood is clotting, and I have to make haste.

The statue of Auri-El looks bright as always. The sun shining through the brilliant white skin of the spread wings is a feast to the eyes and the hundreds of teeth, finger- and toe bones that make up the stern visage of Auri-El are put together by the best craftsman in the city. At least that's what the altmer say. I see no beauty in their art, only pain. I tenderly caress the ivory and make sure to polish it until my hands bleed. I clean the bright white skins until they gleam like fresh fallen snow again, scrub off the old blood and let the fresh blood flow freely. I have to make multiple runs for blood to cover all of the statue, because the statue of Auri-El is the largest of the statues in the garden. Because it is made from many bones and skin of snow elves. Because my family once was large. But now I am alone.


End file.
